Strength in Numbers
by Bloodhawk 248
Summary: In a galaxy where the deeds of the heroic Commander Shepard are lauded and recorded, one rogue N6 operative, a talkative salarian, and a world-weary krogan, go unnoticed. For how long is another matter.
1. Chapter 1

_August 19, 2184_

_Turian diplomatic ship _Inferno, _orbiting Ilonderas_

_1300 hours_

These turian guards, he was beginning to realize, were probably the chattiest slavers he'd ever seen. And slaver guards on boring prison duty were usually a loquacious lot.

"What do you think the boss will do with the prisoners?"

"Sell them, idiot. Which ones did you mean?"

"The humans, especially the females. I hope he doesn't."

"Have you no pride? You'd stoop so low as to rut with a human? I don't know what you see in those fleshy meatbags. No cartilage, all soft and squishy. Myself, I prefer the asari; at least they're not as fragile."

Oh, how he desperately wanted to shut them both up. Give him his Locust...or better yet, his Mantis. He'd only need one shot.

Too bad they'd taken both away from him. His armor, too, and basically everything he'd had on him. His state-of-the-art, shielded and customized suit of N6 armor was now sitting somewhere in an armory, probably being drooled over by the stupid turians, doubtless for the money they could get for it.

Instead, he was wearing the dirty orange of prisoner clothes. They were too small for him and itched tremendously, making him wonder if they'd ever been washed. They also stank, smelling like someone had died in them, which was all too possible, judging by the dark stain on the front of the shirt.

_Well, that'll teach me to underestimate them. _He thought morosely. _Next time I try to assassinate the head diplomat-captain of a diplomatic/slaver ship, I'll try not to attract so much attention._

His cell was spacious enough, allowing him to lie down lengthwise without having to compress his body. That was the only thing that could be said for it. Prison cells weren't designed to be comfortable.

The turian guards were talking again.

_When I get out of there, I'm killing the one in green armor first. Then the one in the orange._

"When's the shift over?"

"In an hour, I think. Actually, once it's done, I think I'll pay that asari we captured a visit."

Both guards chuckled.

As if the world had tired of their dirty humor and decided to teach them a lesson, the door on the opposite side of the room exploded inward.

Smoke filled the room, and both guards shouted and coughed, bringing assault rifles to bear.

"Where is he?"

"I can't see him!"

A huge shape lumbered up out of the smoke and smashed one of the turians down with the butt of a shotgun he dimly recognized as an Eviscerator. As the guard made a dent in the steel floor, the attacker pivoted and fired, throwing the other guard off his feet and into the wall.

As the smoke faded away, he realized the massive soldier now moving towards one of the cells was a krogan, and a huge one, even for that species. More particularly, he wore the familiar helmet and armor looped with red-tubes that Saren Arterius' elite krogan troops had favored. 'Rage' armor, he remembered it was called.

The battlemaster-for that was what he had to be- moved out of sight. A whimper sounded from nearby.

"I am not here to hurt you, child." The krogan's voice was rough and growling, like most of his kind's, but infused with a reassuring tone and proper grammar, not typical of krogan battlemasters. "Your father hired me to rescue you."

The unseen prisoner choked. "R-really?"

A chuckle, now, deep and resonate. "Yes. Excuse me." A large thump, then a crackle, and the forcefield separating him from the outside world shimmered, then faded.

Quickly, he stepped out, and saw the massive krogan ushering a human male-young, about twenty years old with severe acne-, out of his cell. Surprisingly enough, no other prisoners stepped out of their cells, meaning they were all asleep or too traumatized to leave.

The battlemaster's shotgun came up at his approach, and while it wasn't exactly pointed at him it wasn't exactly pointed _away _from him, either.

He raised his hands. "Don't shoot me, I just want to get my stuff and get out of here."

The krogan's eyes narrowed. "Stuff?"

"Yeah, my armor and guns."

"You are not an ordinary slave."

"Nope. Humanity Systems Alliance N6 Operative at your service. I came here to shoot the guy in charge, but his guys found me first, so here I am."

"Interesting." The battlemaster nodded, and his shotgun rose to indicate the corridor outside. Alarms were blaring now, indicating that they had very little time before guards rushed the area. "Your weapons are likely in the main armory, which is directly between the prison block and the hangar." The massive reptilian head jerked sideways. "I advise you to procure a weapon if you wish to survive."

Mike needed no encouraging, and snatched one of the fallen assault rifles off the ground.

"Lead the way."

Just at that moment, a turian guard appeared in the doorway. Before he could shoot, the krogan blew a hole in his chestplate and strode out into the corridor and out of sight. The familiar chatter of assault weapons was soon overruled by the steady boom of the shotgun, and eventually fell silent all together. A krogan head stuck its way back into the room.

"It is clear."

Mike grabbed the kid's arm. "Come on, let's go."

It turned out he didn't have to use his rifle much. The krogan handled most of the combat.

Mike was still wondering why exactly the krogan was helping him to get his weapons back, because that was what he was doing. The battlemaster strode in front of both of his erstwhile companions, taking sporadic shots on his massive body and executing his assailants with casual blasts of his Eviscerator. All opposition was swiftly crushed; they had expected to be dealing with unarmored slaves, crouched behind makeshift cover. A fully-armored krogan with a shotgun didn't seem to be in their plans.

Then again, the N6 operative reflected, it wasn't really costing the krogan anything. He would have fought his way out in any case, only now there was a human who could probably assist him in his escape, once properly equipped.

Absently, he fired the captured rifle at a sniper who'd popped up to head-shot his new ally. The Avenger chattered, dropping the turian, who fell into the krogan's path, writhing in pain. Casually, as if he hadn't intended to, the battlemaster's massive foot slammed down on the turian's head, reducing it to paste.

Mike shuddered as the krogan resumed his passage. He hadn't applied any particular force to that blow; it hadn't even changed his stance. That was just a regular footfall.

The corridor opened out into a larger area, with multiple doors lining the walls, and ten prison guards armed with assault rifles and shotguns.

Immediately, Mike dove to one side, crouching behind an upturned table as gunfire ripped through the walls behind him. He caught a glimpse of the krogan as he shoved the kid he'd come to rescue behind another table and turned to meet the wall of bullets clanging off him.

In anticipation of his deadly return fire, half of the prison squad rolled behind cover, while the others continued to shoot. The Eviscerator roared once, before the krogan tossed something over the improvised cover.

The grenade expanded outwards in a blast of fire, consuming two guards unfortunate enough to be in its range. Screaming in agony, they rolled around as the flames licked at their armor and flesh. Calmly, the krogan swiveled and blasted two more as they rose up to attack.

The N6 operative rose as well, catching one of the turians with his head exposed. Quickly, he blazed a trail of bullets at his target, but most went wide.

_Damn! This thing ain't accurate at all!_

Fortunately, enough rounds perforated the turian's head to successfully kill him, but his clip was empty now, and he didn't have any place to carry spares.

His battlemaster companion slung the Eviscerator shotgun and unlimbered the unmistakable form of a Revenant assault rifle. Mike felt his eyes widen; that kind of gun cost quite a lot of money, which was why the Alliance didn't issue it much, even to its elite operatives.

Once the gun opened up, his ears failed. The weapon's roar blotted out every other sound, and its muzzle flash dazzled his unhelmeted eyes, but he was able to see well enough to note that the remaining turians all died. Even cover was no help against the sheer power of the Revenant.

"We cannot be bogged down again. We must hurry." Over the roar in his ears, he could dimly hear the krogan speaking. "Come."

The armory was just outside the corridor, and Mike quickly dressed and armed himself. It felt good to be wearing armor and carrying metal again. It meant he couldn't be taken so easily.

Both krogan and human stared at him once he returned, with the krogan breaking contact first.

"You look like a warrior now." He offered. "It suits you more than the rags of a slave."

"Thanks...I guess."

The alarms were still blaring, loud and annoying, and Mike took great pleasure in shooting one with his Locust. The bulb shattered and the foghorn blares became more distant.

They resumed their progress, but the N6 operative found his right leg weakening, as the old sniper wound in that leg took its toll. The battlemaster noticed, but simply grunted, slowing his pace a fraction.

A few firefights ensued, as tardy guards finally found their quarries, but battlemaster and N6 operative simply smashed through them, the Revenant obliterating all cover and chewing through those turians foolish enough to trust it for safety, and the Locust finishing off those who stayed unscathed.

"You fight well, human." The krogan said, after they paused to let the other human rest. Mike still didn't know his name.

"Thanks. It's a prerequisite to be N6." The operative scanned the area even as he spoke, his weapon at the ready. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"This child is the son of a wealthy corporate magnate, the kind of man who dotes on his children and is prepared to offer any amount of money for their safe return." The krogan uttered a deep chuckle. "It is even enough to afford my 'bring them in alive' rate."

Looking at the Revenant, Mike decided the krogan was right.

"Alright, let's get moving, shall we?"

The hangar was easy to get to; by now Mike was sure they'd killed half the guards on the station. He'd already run through half his ammunition, and he'd brought a _lot _of it. Battlemaster, on the other hand, seemed to have just as much ammo as he had before he'd slaughtered dozens of turians, with the Revenant firing as steadily as ever.

Corporate-boy was still quiet, except the occasional sob, but they were sobs of relief, now, like he was finally allowing himself to believe that he might get out of here alive.

The hangar entrance was, surprisingly, undefended by enemy soldiers. The krogan quickly moved towards the door, shotgun held ready, while Mike snapped his Locust up to cover his ally's back.

A few tense moments passed as the battlemaster fiddled with the controls, then suddenly he let out a grunt of irritation. Mike turned back in time to see him body-slam the wall, step back, and smash into it again.

The door buckled after the third impact. Mike gaped. The battlemaster turned around and chuckled.

"Close your mouth, human, before a small mammal decides to make its home there."

The hangar, too, was devoid of defenses, Mike noted, as he stepped inside. A surplus of craft rested upon the steel flooring, including three landers, two shuttles, and some kind of heavily-modified personal ship. It sported several weapons that Mike was sure were not part of the original design, and the oversized engines in the back were most definitely upgraded, and possibly illegal.

His companion began to step forward, then suddenly stopped. Mike bumped into him, then stopped as well, listening carefully.

From the direction of the modified vessel, the voice of a salarian drifted over.

"Landers? Not-capable-of-mass-relay-transit. Shuttles? Too-small, fuel-reserves-not-large-enough. Hmmmm... Unidentified-craft-engines-modified, possibly-illegally, -belong-to-warden-or-guards no-emblem-or-insignia. -take."

The krogan stepped out in front of Mike and growled.

"That is my ship you want to take, babbling lizard. Step away from it."

Surely enough, the figure of a salarian appeared as it moved away from the ship. Mike's eyes narrowed. The salarian obviously wasn't a slaver, seeing as the entire crew of the ship were turians. Still, what was he doing here?

"-here-by-accident-hitchiked-on-wrong-vessel did-not-know-shuttle-belonged-to-slavers. Escaped-detection-came-here, tried-to-decide-how-to-escape. Settled-on-your-ship-capable-of-mass-relay-transit-heavily-armed, fast-"

"Slow down, buddy." Mike called. "We can't understand a word you said."

The krogan snorted. "Speak for yourself, human."

Salarian-guy took a deep breath. "Will...try...slow down..."

"Ok. What was all that you were saying before?"

"Apologies...did not...know...was his ship...no-sorry-can't-slow-down."

Mike heaved a sigh. "Okay then...What's your name? Only your name."

"My-name-is-Karoleis-Korinth."

"Okay, Karoleis... Why are you here?"

The salarian began to speak, but the krogan cut him off.

"He is here because he 'hitchhiked' on the wrong shuttle. It took him here, and he is apparently trying to figure out how to escape." He shrugged. It was a strange gesture for a krogan. "The rest of that chatter is his criteria for selecting my vessel as his means of escape."

Mike fixed the krogan with a steady stare. "What are your plans, now, anyway?"

"I must deliver the child to my employer. I have planted charges in key places on this ship. Once I depart, I will detonate them, destroying this ship and killing all aboard, as specified by my employer." He didn't seem particularly bothered by it.

Hell. Mike wasn't bothered by it either.

"What about us?" he indicated both the salarian and himself.

The krogan shrugged again. "If you wish, I will transport you to the nearest inhabited world and allow you to make your way from there."

Unsurprisingly, the salarian interjected.

"Revenant-Eviscerator-good-quality-weapons-must-be-mercenaries. Contract-with-human-corporate? Must-be-to-afford-expensive-krogan-interesting-but-not-unexpected. Looking-for-work?"

The krogan waited a minute, probably while the salarian's words reached his brain.

"I have no contracts lined up."

"Have-quarian-contact, possibility-of-goodjob. Was-going-to-meet-her-but-got-side-tracked. Probably-annoyed, never-did-like-latecomers-or-tardiness. Anyway, contract-for-geth, contact-on-quarian-pilgrimage-to-bring-back-useful-data-on-geth-systems. She-needs-muscle-though, single-quarian-ongeth-controlled-world-inadvisable-and-bad-odds-"

"Stop!" Mike clapped his hands over his ears. "Alright. Go ahead."

"Contact-needs-merc-squad-to-help-retrieve-inactive-geth. Will-plunder-data, gain-useful-information. Promises-geth-bodies, valuable, could-sell-for-much-monies. One-geth-body-for-all-interested."

Finally, the battlemaster lowered his shotgun. "Interesting. I will sign on this. A geth drone body is very valuable."

The N6 operative flicked a meaningful glance at the krogan's weapons.

"I don't think you need any more money, if you have enough to buy that Rev' and remain in business."

The krogan shrugged. "True. However, all I have is my work. I would have nothing to do without the promise of battle, and so I take the money for the jobs I am offered. It is just compensation, though I care not for the money I gain."

Mike frowned. "I'd love to take you up on this job, but I still have a diplomat/slaver to kill. Then I have to get back to Alliance headquarters and report the mission. Sorry, Karoleis."

The salarian's head drooped, then came up quickly.

"Not-a-problem, will-find-alternative-mercs. Slot-open-for-you, though, in-case-you-quit-job-and-need-work."

The krogan rumbled in amusement.

"I will deliver you to the nearest planet. I expect you can make your way from there."

Mike shook his head. "No thanks. There's a planet below, right? Ilonderas, if I'm not mistaken? I heard the guards talking about it. Set your charges and leave, but I'll stay here and flush that turian son of a bitch out, then escape."

The krogan regarded him carefully.

"He will probably die in the explosion. My charges are set for five minutes." The massive frog's head tilted to one side. "You will not have a high possibility of survival, either."

Mike grinned and flipped up his Locust. "I'm N6. I work with odds like this every day. Five minutes is plenty of time. Besides, I need to make sure he died, otherwise he'll tell every anti-human asshole that the humans tried to have him killed."

"You are devoted to your duty, human." The krogan bowed his head slightly. "You have a warrior's soul."

Mike shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "Thanks, I guess. You should probably be off soon."

The N6 operative turned, preparing to resume his chase.

"Human!" the krogan called. "My name is Pierce. Remember it."

Mike didn't turn. "Sure."

And so the man Mike Patterson, but more often known as Sin, melted into the shadows of the prison ship once more, a knife aimed at the heart of his target. It had been deflected once, but as many bureaucrats and military leaders had learned to their regret, the knife is never blocked twice.

Elthonas Kenthral was annoyed. His week had not been good to start with, and all the shitstorms that seemed to appear spontaneously were not helping.

First, that fucking human had tried to kill him. He was missing a mandible and it hurt, thanks to that damnable sniper rifle. Only his armor and a chance movement had saved him from having his head blown off.

Then, a few days later, the krogan who'd landed on the ship under pretense of wanting to purchase a slave ended up being some kind of bounty hunter who'd slaughtered his way through half the ship's troops on his way in to rescue some brat. If that wasn't bad enough, he set the human free, and then both of them slaughtered their way through the other half of his turians on their way out.

Finally, the damned beast had planted charges on his ship, and there were approximately three minutes before they all blew the hell up and killed him.

Fortunately, the cameras that were linked to his helmet showed the krogan's ship taking off. Good. That meant no fucking frog or shit-headed human would get in his way. He'd escape, and he'd damn well show the fucking humans that Elthonas Kenthral wasn't such an easy target!

He moved at a fast run down the corridors of his ship, regretting the catastrophic loss that he would suffer once the charges detonated. There was a fortune worth of slaves and equipment on this ship, but the Hierarchy would provide him a new ship. It was theirs, after all, complete with all the holding equipment used to hold prisoners for exchanges. Turian diplomacy was very militaristic.

And then he'd find a new crew and start the whole business again in no time. He was, after all, the most intelligent turian diplomat in the service. He'd find a way to make bigger profits than ever before.

So caught up in his thoughts was he that he didn't notice the black-and-grey shadow step out from behind a power conduit and jam a submachine gun into his chest.

The gun chattered once, and only once. At point-blank range, even a Locust could shred armor. And Elthonas wasn't wearing armor.

The results were...messy, to say the least.

As Elthonas' corpse slumped to the ground, Sin knelt down and, removing a glass vial from his belt, carefully caught the blue turian blood, corked it, then returned it to his belt and set off for the hangar at a sprint.

He managed to make it to one of the shuttles and get out of the hangar thirty seconds before the explosion.

His new personal best, he thought.

The shuttle he'd stolen was, fortunately, fully fueled, and able to make the journey down to Ilondras. Though heavily populated, there were areas concealed from scanners, and he would land the shuttle there, go to one of the cities, and call the Alliance. They could pick him up from there.

This was what had happened on every previous mission, and he had no reason to believe it would be different this time.

Mike arrived on Ilondras as planned and slipped into a city fairly easily. There, he found a private terminal, ensured it was totally encrypted, entered his comm code and was surprised to find a message waiting for him.

Selecting it, he frowned when the face of his Alliance contact appeared on the screen.

Jasmine Chen was an old friend of his, the younger sister of one of his closest friends in high school. They'd served together in N6 ops, before she transferred out to intelligence after one too many close calls. Still, she always made sure to provide him whatever information his official handlers couldn't...or wouldn't.

Something told him this time would be of the latter.

She was worried, definitely. Green eyes, usually full of suppressed mirth, stared worriedly at him. As the message continued, she began to tap the table repeatedly with one finger.

"Mike, bad news. I know you were sent on that black op to kill that slaver/diplomat last week, don't try to figure out how. Alright..." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "When you were caught, they inspected you, right? Elite human infiltrator supplied with state-of-the-art equipment? It's safe to say they reported you to the Hierarchy as a 'dangerous human assassin attempting to murder the respected diplomat Elthonas Kenthral'. Still, you failed, and there wasn't any proof to tie you to the Alliance, despite your genome. So nothing happened.

But a few days later, the ship blows up. Now, the Hierarchy hasn't said anything officially, but because of that transmission, the brass thinks you're compromised."

Mike's eyes widened. Jasmine seemed to have anticipated his reaction. She attempted a smile, and dropped it a second later.

"It gets better. The brass is planning to pick you up once you call them, denounce you as a rogue and traitor who, on his own initiative, killed a respected turian diplomat just because of rumors that he might be a slaver, then toss you in jail. No way out for you."

Mike's fist clenched.

Jasmine continued. "You should lay low, Mike. I know you, and I know you want to go and beat the shit out of the brass, but you can't risk it. The Alliance is already sending out feelers for you, just so if the Hierarchy demands you be dealt with they can say they're already on the case. Sorry, Mike, but from now on you're on your own."

The image faded.

My name is Michael 'Mike' Patterson. My codename is Sin, because I do all the dirty jobs the Alliance can't acknowledge they ordered. Their 'sins', if you will.

And now, someone's decided I am a sin. They've decided to cast me aside, treat me like a used piece of toilet paper, after all the shit I did for them. I've no doubt some of the people I killed were on the list because they pissed off some bureaucrat, not because they threatened the Alliance.

Fucking _traitors._

They didn't even think I was worthy of being warned. If they'd at least called me up and went, "Hi Mike, look, we're spineless assholes who're worried about a fight with the turians, so we're going to cut you loose and pretend you're a rogue. Lie low, watch yourself, and since we're worried about nothing you should be able to come back soon," I wouldn't be quite as mad. Black ops are black for a reason, and any operative should be ready to be cut loose.

But like this? Without even telling me-without any support whatsoever, just because the fucking turians might-I say might because they probably won't-get angry at the death of a total asshole, I'm going to be tossed in jail the minute I show up to let them know I took out the trash?

Fuckers.

I swear, one day, every one of those pompous-assed pricks is going to get a special visit from an X-95 Mantis. A _very _special visit.

Now what the fuck do I do? I can't go home. Jasmine risked everything to tell me about this, and I'm not going back to blow her cover. Not even to settle scores with those assholes.

I guess I'll sign up as a merc or something, try to find work. Maybe the Blue Suns'll take me. I'm good in a fight. Like I told that old frog Pierce, you have to be to make it as an N6.

My leg hurts. Always has been, ever since one of those drell assassins shot me in the thigh while I was hunting his boss. I always liked the drell. Professional, quiet. Not at all like some human assholes I've worked with. The hanar...can't say I really take them seriously. I mean, look at them! They're giant jellyfish! But that one did fight pretty well. Almost choked me before I punched his ticket.

Getting sidetracked. People are looking at me. I'd better leave-

Wait. Is that-

Mike Patterson, former N6 Operative, stands alone in the crowd.

Before him are two familiar figures: the massive humpback form of a krogan battlemaster, and the slender, lithe physique of a salarian. Both are armed; the krogan carries his Revenant machine gun and Eviscerator shotgun on his back, while the salarian bears a holstered M-5 Phalanx and Locust submachine gun at his belt.

Putting aside the strange sight of seeing a krogan and salarian standing together, Mike focuses on the situation.

"Hi. What's up?"

The salarian talks first, quite excited, judging by his speech, which is faster than normal.

"Was-going-to-gather-mercs-for-job, but-Pierce-refused-. Said-to-come-back, wait-here-for-you. Asked-him-why, smiled-and-said-human-black-ops-soldiers-get-cut-loose. Said-with-you-on-mission, chances-of-success-increase."

The assassin-no N6 operative now- fixes the krogan with a steady gaze.

"And why would that be?"

The krogan smiles, revealing yellowed teeth.

"I know what warriors look like. The eyes show everything. You, human, are a warrior. Willing to put everything on the line to kill your opponent, to accomplish your mission, these are warrior qualities. You will be a valuable asset on our mission."

Mike shakes his head. "How did you know I'd be cut loose?"

"Humans are a weak species. They seldom take the consequences of their actions, always hiding behind qualifiers and trivialities. Your Alliance was afraid of the Hierarchy, and with good reason. The turians are fine warriors. Your Alliance is made of shivering, soft insects, rather than proud warriors. They wish to avoid conflict, while warriors thrive on it. You are a warrior. You thrive."

The assassin considers this. "That's true."

Karoleis pipes up again.

Karoleis pipes up again. "Contact-waiting-for-us, now-merc-squad-is-assembled. Should-leave-immediately."

"Just the three of us?" Mike raises an eyebrow.

Pierce smiles. "Will that be a problem?"

The assassin shrugs.

"Not for me."

Karoleis raises a finger. "What-is-your-name? Cannot-refer-to-you-as-human, ."

Mike considers this too.

"Call me Sin."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. For anyone who cares, Chapter 1 is now edited and re-formatted.

Sorry for the short chapter, but I thought this was the best place to end it.

_August 21, 2184_

_Varren-class personal transport _Fading Glory

_0200 hours_

Pierce's ship was rather comfortable. It was nothing like the comparatively massive frigates and cruisers Sin had found himself on during his career, but those ships were mainly just weapons, consoles, and power cores. The shipboard quarters left a lot to be desired.

The _Fade_ sported four goodly-sized cabins, each consisting of a bed and hygiene room. Surprisingly enough, each room was customized to accommodate the wide range of species that could be found sailing through space. The rooms were large enough to accommodate krogan or elcor, equipped with vocal sensors to be convenient for hanar, and still managed to retain the general aura and sense of a pre-space age shower.

Sin rather liked his new home. Annoying bunkmates snoring incessantly through the night would no longer be annoying, because the room was entirely soundproof. Good thing too, because on the off-chance Pierce snored and the fact that Karoleis probably talked in his sleep, there was enough sound potential to keep him awake for the entire venture.

Pierce, being the krogan battlemaster he was, had made sure each room was outfitted with weapons racks and equipment bins. Between them all, there was enough room for his relatively sparse collection of gear. The Locust and Mantis looked somewhat lonely, situated high on the racks.

Currently, however, Sin was neither in his hygiene suite nor in his bedroom. Instead, he was on the cockpit with his companions, staring intently at the glowing galaxy map that hovered in mid-air.

"We were intended to meet up with your contact at Gotha, correct?" Pierce's deep rumble shook the bridge.

Karoleis stared perplexedly at the screen. The gently revolving globe displayed the hazy, browning form of the dwarf planet in detail. Looking closely, Mike could even see the individual spots as heat flickered through its atmosphere.

"Hmm-problematic, Lete-very-emphatic, Gotha-is-meeting-place, plans-change, probability-bad, complications, not-good." Karoleis tapped a finger against his thigh. "Ambush-by-geth? High-probability, geth-controlled-"

A high-pitched shrike cut through the air and the proximity lights began flashing. Pierce slammed a massive hand on a wall switch, which cut the alarm off immediately. Karoleis was already in the copilot seat, dexterous fingers flying over the control interface.

An image popped up on the overhead screen. A small personal transport, not unlike the _Fading Glory_, dove and spun desperately, blue laser beams and red missile trails flashing past it. Another ship pursued. It was smooth, sleek, with graceful lines and curves that reminded Mike of Terran sharks. Weapon mounts bristled from the hull, vomiting the deadly blasts of light and metal that sought to destroy its target.

Karoleis sat bolt upright.

"Vessel-signature-clear, _Honor's_-_Folly_, Lete's-ship!-under-attack-by-geth!-must-have-run-into-patrol-vessel-and-attempted-to-evade. Must-ask-her-how-she-managed-"

Pierce snorted. "You will not have your chance if we do not go to her aid." He lumbered over to the pilot seat and slid in without trouble. The ship rumbled, and the vectors indicating distance from the battling ships began to decrease

The krogan glanced over his shoulder, and Mike detected a glint of anticipation in those beady eyes.

"What is the human expression? Hold on tight."

Space was vast, and the void that enclosed it even more so, but the flickers of light that flashed as the three ships began their duel slashed through the darkness with flamboyant bursts of energy.

_Fading Glory _dove in on the geth ship at an almost vertical angle, catching the vessel's top side. Though not a military ship of any class, Pierce's extensive fortunes had upgraded and re-fitted the previously innocent transport, turning it into a heavily-armed, heavily-shielded, and extremely fast attack vessel.

The fruits of his labor showed as the elongated posts assumed by many to be maneuvering fins rotated and swung up, splitting apart to reveal the cylindrical shapes of laser cannons.

Red blasts exit the cannons, and as _Glory _swoops out of its dive and vectors away, the rapid hammers of high-intensity light beams smash against the geth ship. Shields and kinetic barriers absorb the damage, however, and the mechanical shark remains unharmed.

_Glory _sweeps around, and this time, five small cones detach from aft storage areas and ignite, trailing blue sparks as they rush forward. Five more follow, launched in a calculated staggering pattern. The krogan's ship follows the path of its missiles, zooming in on the geth ship's port side.

Defense lasers slash out at the missiles, but preprogrammed defensive maneuvers and extra fuel tanks allow the projectiles to dance, avoiding narrowly the bolts of light to slam into their target, vanishing in brief bursts of flame.

The kinetic barriers hold, but the shields fail, and now _Glory _fires its laser cannons, a steady, unremitting stream of power that slams with reckless abandon against its target. Barriers fall, and finally, the energy bypasses all defensive measures to gouge holes in the gleaming, unmarred hull.

Now, the geth ship fires. A coruscating beam lances out and briefly joins its target to it for a moment, before the quarian ship's aft detonates spectacularly, stopping the ship dead in space.

Another beam lances out, this one aimed at _Glory,_ but the ship jinks and twirls, evading the beam and returning sporadic fire. More damage is scored on the geth ship, but damage is largely superficial.

Still, the predator moves forward, until it is perpendicular to the stricken quarian vessel. The prow slams into the side, but does not penetrate through. Instead, boarding tubes are extended, joining the ships.

Silence reigned on the _Glory's _bridge.

"Well," Mike said, finally. "That isn't good."


	3. Chapter 3

_August 21, 2184_

_Migrant Fleet vessel Ullana_

_0200 hours_

Lete Rai'Teel activated her omni-tool, and the oncoming geth staggered and stopped as a thick layer of ice coated its body, sinking into joints and obstructing operational movement. The blast of her Carnifex shattered the entire body, and the drone fell in pieces to the deck.

Bodies littered the deck, sprawled out in various gruesome poses as rigor mortis took hold. The young quarian backpedaled, dropping another drone with a headshot, and almost tripped over an outstretched arm. A third drone pressed forward, firing relentlessly, and the shots impacted on her shields.

"Bosh'tet!" She swore, and ducked underneath a mechanical swing, jamming her pistol into its midriff, firing twice. The powerful rounds sheared through the tough geth metal, literally severing the AI in half at the waist. It folded, crumpling into a heap of twisted and flickering electronics.

No more killer robots came through the door, and silence fell, interrupted only by her harsh breathing and the click as she ejected a thermal clip.

Distantly, she wondered what would happen to the ship once she died, and she had no doubt she would. The initial raiding party had been repelled, but geth ships contained hundreds of drones, and they would be boarding shortly.

Behind the semi-transparent faceplate, her eyes narrowed. The geth had driven her people from their world and condemned them to an existence of wandering vagrancy. She would do as much damage to their murdering frames before she died. Disrupter ammo would help her pistol and rifle do plenty of damage to the synthetics.

Thus resigned to her fate, she began the grisly task of collecting thermal clips from the bodies of her dead comrades.

The _Glory _vectored towards the geth ship again, firing another spread of missiles. Defense lasers blasted again, and with the range closer, the missiles were unable to dodge all the shots. Two missiles detonated in rapid succession, and another was dealt a glancing blow so that it spiraled off and exploded harmlessly off-target.

The remaining two missiles reached their target and detonated. Engine structures exploded and drive coils imploded. Debris showered the space around the ship, and now the geth vessel was just as hobbled as its target, and almost as helpless.

Only now did the geth vessel unleash its full fury upon the bothersome gnat that had managed to hurt it.

Coruscating beams of power flashed in the void, and blazing missile trails rocketed forth, fingers of destruction reaching blindly for their target.

The _Glory _immediately went evasive, transitioning smoothly from vertical dives to mad corkscrews, and somehow managed a rolling side-slip that brought two missiles together and missed another by the closest of margins. Point-defense systems went active, the smaller ship releasing ECM counter-jamming and fields of shrapnel from canisters to confuse and prematurely detonate the missiles.

For some inexplicable reason, none of the thirty missiles launched at the krogan ship reached their target. Retaliation was not slow in coming.

_Glory _soared through space, firing a steady stream of holes that lanced through the superstructure, until the vessel began to look like it had been the enthusiastic chew-toy of a giant space monster. Laser bolts targeted first the beam turrets, then the missile launch tubes, until the entire cruiser was effectively defanged.

Pierce sat back, an expression that on a human would be a satisfied smile crossing his face.

Mike whistled appreciatively, and the krogan performed a mock bow in his seat.

Karoleis was silent for a moment, then his omni-tool appeared on his wrist and he began madly punching buttons.

"Amazing-evasive-tactics, haven't-seen-the-like. Missiles-dodged-by-hairs-on-human-necks, countermeasures-extremely-effective, must-document-all-procedures-used-to-better-utilize-counter-geth-tactics-"

Pierce flicked a switch, and the stricken quarian ship appeared, still attached to the geth cruiser via prow penetration. Identification information flashed up on the display.

"The ship identifies itself as the _Ullana_," Pierce said slowly, turning to stare at Karoleis. "Not _Honor's Folly_."

The salarian stared back, until he slapped himself upside the head.

"Of-course, idiot-my-apologies. Lete-renamed-her-ship, forgot-in-all-excitement. Yes, _Ullana-_proper name-but-what-to-do-about-boarders?"

"That ship's not going anywhere." Mike offered. It was true. Speared by the cruiser's powerful prow, the quarian vessel would suffer severe structural damage if the prow was removed.

"Quarian-crew, cannot-have-survived-with-full-complement." Karoleis mused. "Should-board-ship-ourselves, rescue-survivors-and-extract."

"We should be able to obtain intact geth bodies, too." Mike turned to look at Pierce. "Provided you don't use your shotgun."

Karoleis' antler-horns flared suddenly, and he shook his head alarmingly fast.

"No-no-no-no, geth-platforms-on-combat-readiness, will-self-destruct-and-purge-all-data-once-captured, useless."

"Or not." The human operative shrugged.

Pierce turned back to his controls.

"I will remain in the cockpit to monitor your progress and prepare for quick extraction. You two conduct the operation. Survive."

Mike nodded and grabbed Karoleis by the arm.

"Come on, chatterbox, let's suit up."

The interior - _Honor's Folly _or _Ullana _or whatever the ship was named – was unlike any of the Alliance ships Mike had frequently been on.

For one, it was obvious that the battle damage and carbon scoring ubiquitously present had not done much cosmetic damage to the already battered and patched interior. No square meter of paneling was identical; all bore unique and individual signs of repair work and the quarian equivalent of duct-tape.

Karoleis, of course, wasn't missing any of this, as his steady stream of chatter reminded Mike.

"Fascinating-damage-far-more-severe-than-expected, even-with-prow-attack. Still, quarian-ships-ragtag-mongrel-frequently-patched-up-no-uniform-class-all-individualized-some-original-ships-used-to-flee-geth-"

One of said geth popped up out of the next junction, gun raised, and before Mike could shout a warning to his oblivious companion, it pointed its rifle and fired.

Karoleis seemed to teleport, twisting sinuously to dodge the slugs while simultaneously crossing the room in only a couple of seconds. The geth tracked him, refocusing its targeting systems, but the salarian snatched its right wrist and pulled it out taut, then slammed his right elbow right into where an elbow would be on an organic being.

Synthetic metal broke in half, leaving the salarian with half an arm, which he used to beat the geth over the head mercilessly. The synthetic raised its remaining arm to fend off his assault, to which Karoleis replied by drawing his pistol with his free hand, shoving it into the geth's midsection, and firing twice. Metal screamed and gave, the geth falling to the floor in a heap.

Karoleis regarded his pistol curiously, then slapped himself upside the head again.

"Stupid-should-have-used-gun-no-need-to-cross-room-when-gun-right-in-hand-"

"Yeah." Mike managed, "but your way works too." Finding his mouth again, he grabbed the salarian's shoulder, and they moved together through the junction.

Their path stopped as the corridor branched off into two forks, one going left and the other right, with no differentiation or convenient signs to help them in their quest.

Which was when Mike realized he didn't really know where they were going.

"Karoleis," his hand shot out to arrest the alien, "where are we going?"

"Must-find-Lete-one-of-side-rooms-is-best-place-to-search-"

Mike sighed. "Lovely. We've got to go through this entire ship." He grabbed Karoleis as the salarian made to run off again. "Whoa! Here, let's split up. You go left, I'll move right. Keep in contact."

Karoleis bobbed his head.

"Yes-of-course-now-must-go-good-luck!" With that he was gone, disappearing down the left corridor.

Mike checked his Locust. Full ammo in this magazine, and more in his belt. Perfect.

Geth, the human soldier soon discovered, were extremely annoying, and in large numbers they became very deadly. They pressed on relentlessly regardless of damage, and when they fell there was always another one behind them, firing relentlessly.

Like right now.

The narrow corridors were also extremely irritating, in that there was frequently no cover, so Mike ducked back behind the corner to avoid a blistering series of shots.

_Damn, right. Better make sure they're not too comfortable._

A grenade flicked itself out of his pouch, and he tossed it down the hall. His speakers erupted with static as the EMP grenade detonated. A squawk of interference issued from over near the explosion site as geth electronics struggled to cope.

Mike rose smoothly from behind his cover, Locust blazing. A storm of sapphire shots tracked down the corridor, funneled by the narrow confines, and found their mark in the four-strong squad of geth drones that had been trying to kill him. Disruptor bolts punched through synthetic armor and metal, wreaking merry hell on the sensitive geth electronics. One drone spasmed and fell to the floor, another exploded in a shower of sparks, and the last two jerked around in agitation, firing wildly, and slew each other quite handily.

The N6 operative-turned-mercenary slapped the release button, and a thermal clip hissed as it fell from the weapon. A new one clicked into place, and he continued down the hallway.

Unsurprisingly, the quarian vessel was devastated. Bodies lay everywhere, charred and scorched. Some looked like they had died from the geth cruiser's weapons, others had been slaughtered by the geth boarders. Mike grimaced.

He tapped into his comm channel.

"Karoleis, do you copy?"

The salarian answered promptly.

"Copy-yes-acknowledge-searching-rooms, not-found-Lete-yet-"

"Keep me posted." Mike cut the channel before Karoleis could short it out. He continued.

The doors on each side of the new corridor were useless; all contained only dead quarians, damaged geth, and debris. His impatience growing, Mike patched into the channel again.

"I'm only hitting dead ends, you got anything?"

"No-no, not-yet-searching-rooms-opening-door-hurk!"

"Karoleis! Come in!" When no response arrived, Mike quickened his pace, slamming through door after door. Eventually, the corridor curved off to meet with the other hall at a central door, which seemed to be locked.

"Fuck!" The human stepped back and shot the panel, which opened quickly...to reveal Karoleis, hands up, and a quarian female with a rifle pressed to his throat. Mike yanked his weapon out.

"Lady, drop the gun!"

She didn't seem to hear him, instead yelling at Karoleis.

"You're late, you bastard! You're late and everyone died because of it!"

If a salarian could blush, Karoleis most definitely was. He was even talking faster than normal, a veritable effort.

"Hitchiked-on-wrong-vessel-got-sidetracked-to-slaver-ship-tried-to-escape-found-human-and-krogan-mercenaries-got-them-on-mission-arrived-and-found-you-being-chased-by-geth-" Karoleis paused, and Mike's mouth dropped open behind the faceplate.

"Wait-we-arrived-and-you-were-being-chased-by-geth-en-route-to-planet!" The salarian pointed an accusing finger at his assailant. "You-tardy-late-hypocrite-unashamedly-hypocritical-no-no-no-no-"

The quarian flicked her assault rifle away and began laughing.

"Ha! You should have seen your face there, Karoleis!" She clapped the confused salarian on the shoulder. "No, for once you weren't." Her face, behind its mask, darkened. "Bosh-tet! Why did they have to show up just now?"

Mike stepped forward, letting the muzzle of his Locust drop.

"Can we discuss this on the ship? Pierce is waiting for us."

The quarian turned to look at him and froze. For a moment they just stared at each other.

"Right-hmm." Karoleis stepped between them. "Introductions-Sin-Lete-Rai'Teel-quarian-technician-very-skilled-in-geth-systems-Lete-Sin-human-mercenary-former-Alliance-very-good-at-combat-shoots-fast-"

"Yeah, nice to meet you." The two shook hands, and Mike turned around.

"Come on, now we've got you, let's go." He paused. "Wait, any data you need?"

Lete still seemed dazed, but shook her head.

"No, I have everything I need." She cast a long look around the ruined room. "I will pay the geth back for this, with interest."

"Lovely," Mike muttered, "But let's make sure we're all alive to do it. Come on!"


	4. Chapter 4

_August 21, 2184_

_Migrant Fleet vessel Ullana_

_0235 hours_

The geth, Mike decided, were very annoying robots.

Despite the obvious fate of the crippled quarian vessel, there was no break in the flow of bipedal androids attempting to annihilate the three survivors. Mike had lost count of the number of geth he'd shot, punched, kicked, and otherwise destroyed.

He reflected with surprise that the caliber of his new companions was much higher than that he'd expected. Lete was an expert with the assault rifle, which seemed to be a bit odd, for a quarian. Most carried more close-in weapons, supplementing their arsenals with technological gadgets and combat drones, but the young quarian engineer seemed to be different from her race: in that respect, at least.

And Karoleis...now seemed a lot scarier than he'd ever been before. The lithe, thin salarian was capable of tremendous speed and packed more strength than his body would otherwise suggest. During the course of the battle, Mike had seen him break geth limbs, smash photoreceptors, kick bodies into walls, and gun down approaching combatants, all executed with precision and merciless alacrity. Each movement looked so fluid and unconscious that Mike was willing to bet he'd planned and practiced every move until they'd become as natural to him as thinking.

Those combat skills were currently very welcome, as the salarian took on several geth soldiers without blinking, while Mike simply shot anything that came near while keeping an eye on his comrade.

Karoleis closed quickly, weaving and ducking with sinuous grace. The geth rifles pivoted to track him, but the salarian blasted the first, ducked a round of shots and spun as he fell to sweep the remaining robotic feet out from underneath their owners. Before the geth could hit the ground, Karoleis' Phalanx barked twice, shattering the glowing orbs the geth used for eyes.

More geth flooded through the door, and shields sparked as Karoleis' armor took slugs. The salarian vaulted, rolling behind a nearby upended table and snapping out shots from behind it.

Mike ducked behind his wall, seeing Lete do the same as the geth opened fire. Disruptor shots bounced off every object in sight, some ricocheting to slam against shields. Mike's suit took several hits, but its shields remained strong.

"Oi, Karoleis, I'm not sure we can hold them! Any idea how to get out?" he snapped over the channel. Almost immediately, the salarian's voice bubbled back.

"Door-in-back-leads-to-bridge-can-maneuver-around-ship-to-return-to-airlock-"

"Alright, go!" Lete shouted. A purple orb of rapidly circling numbers appeared just above her, and moved out towards the geth. The quarian engineer followed her combat drone with a blast of ice that temporarily froze the first ranks of the homicidal machines. Blasts from her shotgun destroyed those frozen geth and sent the others into evasive patterns.

As soon as she began her attack, Mike was moving, sprinting towards the back door, which Karoleis was already fiddling with. The assassin turned to fire a sustained burst, long enough for Lete to join them, before the door sparked and opened. Karoleis beamed and rushed in.

The helmet com crackled, and Pierce's basso voice rumbled.

"The geth ship is increasing its efforts. I recommend you hurry." Something crashed in the background, and the krogan's voice acquired a tense quality. "I may no longer be able to assist you if you take too long."

"We've found one quarian, says she's the only survivor." Mike replied. "We're heading for...Karoleis, where are we headed for?"

"Airlock-where-we-first-entered-best-place-to-exfiltrate-" The salarian chattered, pistol booming as it blasted a geth rounding the corner. "Geth-presence-increasing-odds-of-survival-decreasing-by-second-"

"We don't need to hear that, Karoleis!" Lete interrupted, the resounding boom of her shotgun punctuating the words. "It's not very encouraging!"

The ship rocked, pitching all three humanoids to the deck suddenly. A bulkhead nearby blew out, sending dust and ship-built materials everywhere. The lighting dimmed abruptly, then flickered back on just as quickly.

"The ship's taken a hit," Lete noted, a tinge of worry evident in her tone. "We should leave, now!"

"That's what _I _said." Mike glared at his salarian comrade.

"Sorry-sorry-will-work-faster." Another door barred their way. Karoleis moved to override the lock, but Mike held up a hand. "Faster my way."

One grenade later, the door was a smoking ruin and the three companions were rushing on through more corridors, until another geth attack squad appeared.

"Are we closer to the airlock?" Mike panted, shields sparking as a stray geth round bounced off them. "We don't have time for this!"

Karoleis rose from behind his improvised cover, fingers flashing on his omni-tool. Two geth spasmed and exploded in gouts of fire. A wave of artificial ice covered the remaining three, the robots shaking as they attempted to break free of their confines. Shotgun shells and Locust rounds shattered the frozen machines.

"Should-be-almost-there-according-to-model-not-many-more-geth-between-us-and-ship." A bullet zipped past the salarian's head, answered by the low boom of his Phalanx.

"Model?" Mike inquired warily, emptying the last rounds of his clip into a geth changing position. "What model?"

Lete, crouched next to him, shook her helmeted head.

"He calculates models of the situation based on the shit he figures out in the middle of the fight. It gets really stupid, because sometimes they work. Don't ask."

"Ok, then. Will we be reaching the ship anytime soon, Karoleis?" The assassin blew off another geth head.

"Should-be-just past-this-corridor-" The salarian fiddled with his omnitool. "Yes-sure-of-it-should-be-home-free-"

Suddenly, the ship rocked again, lights dimming, and there was a crack of thunder. Dust began to fall from the ceiling, which shook violently.

"Get back!" Mike cried, seizing Lete and hurling her back towards the way they had come. Karoleis was already moving, executing a graceful somersault which took him just out of the danger zone as the ceiling collapsed, burying the passage and the geth they had been battling.

"Fuck!" Mike swore. Lete picked herself up and unleashed a torrent of quarian swear words at the blocked passageway.

"Looks-like-we-need-alternate-way-out." Karoleis suggested.


End file.
